


The Trial

by DenseHumboldt



Series: Advent 2019 [2]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Blood Bond, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenseHumboldt/pseuds/DenseHumboldt
Summary: Yon-Rogg is on trial for crimes against the galaxy, Captain Marvel is summoned to take part but is anything what it seems?Written as part of the Holiday Yonvers 2019 gift exchange.Updates every Tuesday
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg
Series: Advent 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565644
Comments: 83
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FairyRingsandWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyRingsandWings/gifts).



> Happy nondenominational yonvers gift exchange!
> 
> This work is for the phenomenal FairyRingsandWings.
> 
> Not exactly an arranged marriage AU but kind of???  
> (First line from fictober 2019 prompt list)
> 
> ❄💜💚💙DH

"Listen, I can't explain it, you'll have to trust me."

"Okay, but is it legal?"

"Define legal?"

"Don't dodge question, Danvers."

"It's not not legal. It's complicated."

"Let me rephrase, if you don't go what happens?"

"I don't want to say 'intergalactic incident'-"

Maria sighed. She rolled her eyes back and rubbed her temple, sometimes Carol wondered if her best friend forgot she could see her.

"So what you're saying is you have to miss Christmas, again, because you have jury duty for your ex's war crimes?"

"It's not exactly jury duty. It's more like I am a -witness- kind of," Carol clinked her spoon on the edge of her cereal bowl. She realized the small tune she was making was Jingle Bells and Maria was giving her an annoyed look.

"You're excited to see him."

"I'm not. Why would I be excited? He literally kidnapped me."

"Because he made you feel good about yourself and your-"

"Don't say 'self-esteem'," Carol groaned.

"The research is in, self-esteem is important. How you see yourself is how the world sees you," Maria gave her a meaningful look as Carol sucked back the soggy remains of her cereal. Maria had taken parenting a blossoming teen to the next level and Carol was as often on the other end of a pep talk as Monica was.

"Maria," she said wiping her mouth on her shirt. "I literally glow. I can survive in the vacuum of space. It doesn't matter how I feel on the inside."

Maria scoffed, "sometimes I think you forget that spongey little space-brain of yours is still human."

"I will try to be back for New Years," Carol placated while she quickly disconnected the call. She pressed the heel of her hands into her eyes and made a frustrated sound.

She knew Maria was teasing when she called Yon-Rogg her ex. She knew it didn't make sense to Maria that her blood bound her to him. That as far as the tribunal on Hanastar-9 was concerned she was his mate. That she shared in his crimes by the association of their bodies. That she was also on trial. That she would share his punishment. Unless Xandar could broker a deal. She wasn't just on death row, she was trying to get a divorce from across the galaxy.

She had been mystified by the summons when she received them. Her general translator could make the words legible but the sense eluded her. The name though, Droton Yon-Rogg, bold as life in the first sentence had made her blood run cold. She had not even known if he was living and to see him not with a Commander's title but a Hannastari monarch's title had made her angry. So he had returned to Hala with her message and the SI had simply made him the leader of a border planet colony.

The SI didn't fear her. It didn't fear her message.

She was happy the colony had risen up. She was happy the Kree were being charged with the crime of unlawful colonization. She was happy Yon would face justice of some kind. Even if it was not for what he had done to her, to Mar-Vell. Even if it wouldn't expose the crimes against the Skrull. If only a small sliver of Yon was judged it could be enough.

Until. Until she had seen her name. Until she saw the request she turn herself in peacefully and stand trial with her husband.

That had been the most aching blow. To see him called her mate. There was a time when she would have mocked him for Hanastar's mistake. She would have teased him and they would have found a way out together. Now everything had changed.

She called Irani Rael instead. The older woman was irate. That was how instead of a small trial everything had exploded into something much larger and complicated.

Irani told her she had to go to Hanastar-9, that Nova Empire representatives would meet her there and guide her into the atmosphere. They would explain before the tribunal that she was as much a victim of Kree invasion tactics as Hanastar. That would set the precedent that they were not blood bonded. That it was a sham.

As she broke the news to Maria her ship was already on course to arrive at Hanastar-9.

* * *

They kept refering to him as Droton. It was wearing away at his patience. It seemed they were all happy to take part in the Supremor's charade in exchange for their freedom. He wondered if they could even admit it to themselves.

He paced the small cell they had kept him in. Seven strides, turn, seven strides. The place where the manacles met his skin was darkened and the smell of sweat against the metal wouldn't leave his nose. It mocked him.

He had been sent here as sacrificial lamb. The Supremor knew the new coup rising was more organized than the last. They had a leader that was charismatic and persuasive. A lethal combination of articulate and brutal. Yon-Rogg had met them once, soon after his arrival, when the Hanastari had charged the palace. He had wondered if it had been a disappointment to them to find no guards, no officials, no political prisoners in the dungeon. Only Yon-Rogg, deep in meditation and awaiting their arrival.

They had dragged him before a figure in red and brown. On their body the clay tiles the uprisers had worn as armour. It was both symbolic and effective. It was the clay that had brought the Kree here. Floating within it slivers of highly conductive metal. Metal that could be extracted.

Their leader, Ghan Fal, had told the labourers and the miners to go to the fields and harvest clay. They made armour from it, the fired plates streaked black in the red. Kree blasters could cut through them but it was symbolic to the people to see a body laid in shards. It was a turn of the tide that the Kree superior technology could not churn under.

Ghan Fal had met Yon-Rogg in private. He had paced the room of the palace they had taken over. Yon-Rogg had knelt on the cold black tile and his eyes had traced the molten silver in the joints. They were not truly alone, whether Ghan Fal understood or not, the Supremor was there.

"You are the Droton of this colony?" Ghan Fal had asked circling the room. He looked with fascination at the communication console the evacuating Kree had gutted. Through out the palace memory banks had been ripped out and systems smelted into uselessness.

"That word is not recognized by Hala," Yon-Rogg answered flatly. Ghan looked at him with disgust.

"You wish to rule us but you do not respect our word for it?"

"It is the divine purpose of the Kree to bring governance and peace to all planets. We merely bring resources to your leaders."

"Puppets," Ghan scoffed. "You install them with your generosity then tug their strings until they strangle their people."

"We do not influence or choose your leaders," Yon-Rogg answered. The Supremor was watching. The Supremor was abandoning this colony.

"Then you have no dispute with my becoming leader? You have no defense for your actions beside it is the will of your own people that you oppress us?"

Yon-Rogg had bit his cheek. He would not point out he had just arrived. He would not argue.

"The Kree do not influence the decisions of your people. If you do not want the resources we offer, we will leave."

Yon could see it clearly even if the swaggering Hanastari could not. The neatness, the calculation. The Kree could not easily abandon a colony. If the symbiosis between them shifted and there was no longer a benefit to the Kree then the colony became a parasite on their medical, political and military resources. And yet the Kree could not cut them loose.

Unless they drove them out.

Yon-Rogg was not the Droton, he was the Conciliator. He was the offering from the Kree. He would stand trial for them. He would bear their punishment.

Ghan Fal would only release Yon from his suffering. He struck no blow against an Empire that wished to stop suckling his people.

Except that had been long ago now. Yon had hoped his trial and death would be swift. Perhaps he had underestimated Ghan Fal's abilities in negotiation.

Yon kept his eyes on the guard as he paced. They never spoke to him. He was unsure if his voice still worked. Another guard arrived. Yon-Rogg paused in his pacing. Any deviation was significant. They bent their heads to talk. His translator ripped from him their words were lost. They both glanced at him.

Something was happening.

* * *

She was docked in the Xandarian ship. They would go down together. Two honour guards, the speaker of laws assigned to the tribunal and her. It had been explained to her that the invocation of this particular rule had not happened on Hanastar-9 in almost twelve hundred years.

The law that through marriage two souls became one and punishment was to be divided between them had existed to protect rival feudal landowners. As their children intermarried it ensured no unjust persecution could take place. As marriage became a more romantic endeavour the law faded from use.

"What makes me so lucky?" Carol asked kicking her boot up on the console of their drop ship.

"Exactly," the speaker of laws answered. "It would be safe to assume, Captain, that this is a trap."

Carol paused. It had not occurred to her until now. How had Hanastar-9 known of her existence? She had not contacted Yon in three years. She had barely dared to let him enter her thoughts. Even as he plagued her dreams no one but Maria understood the true depth of their connection.

She would believe many things about Yon-Rogg now, she would doubt all her memories but he would not have told the Hanastari of her existence unless it was to force her to return to him.

"Why would the Hanastari want to trap me?"

"There are two possibilities; either there is no trial at all and the Kree are resorting to charade-"

"An unlikely tactic from them," Carol interrupted.

"I agree, in which case the presence of Xandar by your side would make any movements against you a declaration of open warfare. Also unlikely. Meaning the Hanastari are behind the trial and they are over reaching in their coup."

"What do you recommend?" She asked in an even voice. She could not show anything but steely faced determination. The speaker hesitated.

"Strategy is not my strong suit. I can only comment on the letter of the law and it's meanings, but-" they tented their fingers, "if this is truly a trial by the Hanastari then the legal precedence is in our favour only under one circumstance."

Carol did not like the look that had arrested their features.

"And what circumstance is that?"

"If yours was a love match rather than political."

Carol felt as if the world was falling away beneath her, she realized as she brought her feet down that what she could feel was the drop ship re-orientating on entering the atmosphere.

"It wasn't. It wasn't even consensual," she said the words coming from her mouth in a hurried rush. Had they thought it was? Did they think she loved him?

"I understand that, Captain but it could be argued by the Hanastari that a marriage without love qualifies you to stand trial with their Droton. As the law was made to govern political marriages-"

"I don't understand," panic was turning her brain to fuzz. "You are supposed to be separating us, you are supposed to prove its not real, that is was never real-"

The speaker leaned forward, they took her hands and Carol thought the warm press of them only made her buzzing flesh feel colder.

"We will separate you, but to renounce love during the trial is the simplest option. A political marriage in the eyes of the Hanastari cannot be dissolved without consent of both parties. Can you guarantee the Droton would release you?"

The ship began to rattle as the currents of the atmosphere shook around them and Carol knew the grit of space travel was burning up in yellow sparks.

"Let me see him first," she said as the speaker released her so they could strap in.

They would land soon and she would have to decide what gamble would pay off; that she could convince the tribunal they had been in love or that Yon-Rogg would let her go.


	2. Chapter 2

The surface of Hanastar-9 was misty and grey. They were landing in the early hours when the cool dew was pulled into the air by the pale morning sun. It was a phenomena Carol had seen on dozens of planets from Earth to the far reaches of the Pama galaxy and yet it always made the world feel quiet and close. It soothed her even as the panic rose that she would see him soon. The honour guards fell behind as they disembarked and Carol walked beside the Speaker of the Law.

Crossing the white clouds and pale green grass was a line of shadows; three were angular like temples and one was walking with his shoulders hunched forward. Carol regretted not wearing her armour.

The Speaker had recommended against it. She was technically to be taken prisoner by Hanastari forces once they landed. Her suit would become their property. It was better to leave it in trust to the Xandarians. The Speaker had taken her hands in paper thin ones and assured her that she would not be treated as a prisoner. That they would stay by her side. Carol had smiled but they couldn't know that wasn't what made her afraid.

It was seeing him again. It was knowing there was an ocean between them; deep, blue and irresistibly powerful. She had been drowning in it and never realized. Now she was on shore looking out at the same ocean and there was nothing strong enough for her to cling to.

They stopped and let the Hanastari close the gap. The leader of their group was small, slight but his eyes glowed. They pulled you in with their fervour. He had long black hair braided with red cords. The skin around his eyes was crinkled and leathered from years in the sun. When she looked at him she saw a kaleidoscope of faces, of leaders who she had stood beside, causes she had fought for. When he grinned at her it felt like he had pulled a large fish into his boat. She curled her lip, fighting a sneer. He wore clay plates like armour, as did his guards. Behind him, was a man in ragged black clothes, he had a beard and his hair curled over his ears. His hands were manacled in front of him, his feet were chained together and each guard held a long chain. As they stopped, the chains clattered as they pulled him to the ground. Forcing him to kneel. Each guard struck a spike into the ground, pinioning a chain in place. Yon had kept his head bowed. He didn't want to look at her.

"Ghan Fal, I am the Xandarian Speaker of the Law. I represent Miss Danvers and will speak on her behalf. All words must go through me," the Speaker said in their soft commanding voice. Yon's head jerked up suddenly. His eyes were wide and they burned into her.

He hadn't known. Carol was certain of that, he would never have let her see him like this. She ached to look at him. It shook her with rage she didn't expect to feel.

Ghan Fal opened his mouth to speak but Carol interupted him, "why does he look like that?"

Ghan Fal closed his mouth and looked over his shoulder at Yon. His look was puzzled. The Speaker of the Law looked sideways at her, their grey eyes begging her silence.

"The prisoner-"

"The Droton," Carol corrected. Yon was looking between the speakers, his mouth a hard line. His head was cocked at an angle and when his eyes were on her they watched her lips carefully. He bristled when she said his title. "He is a political prisoner. You have chained him like an animal."

Carol gestured at Yon, she looked to the Speaker. There had to be rules. This couldn't be right.

The Speaker cleared their throat, "as Miss Danvers points out, by the Galactic Concord an untried political prisoner should be kept in conditions befitting their position and allowed their religious freedoms."

"You call her 'Miss Danvers'," Ghan Fal sneered, "is she not the bonded mate of this man? Vers of House Rogg?"

"Miss Danvers does not recognize any name but the one of her birth," the Speaker affirmed with a bow of their head. They weren't to be questioned.

" _Why is she here?_ " Yon-Rogg snarled, his cracked voice almost overwhelmed by the shifting of chains. He spoke in Kree. Carol heard him echo through her translator, his syllables harsh and stabbing. Her gut clenched and she fought the urge to go to him and rip apart the links that bound him. Ghan Fal ignored him.

Carol tore her eyes from Yon and turned to the Speaker gripping their arm, "has he been given Khun Zan Uil? Why have they let this happen?"

Yon was looking at her again. The Speaker looked as if they were formulating an argument as their tongue caught the edge of their lip. They put their hand over Carol's and leaned towards her.

"You are sure you wish to push this issue? Everything that happens here will inform the trial," they said softly.

"This isn't right," she insisted. She didn't know why his appearance or the situation were causing her such acute distress. She had been in revolutions before, had unseated rulers before but this was different. This was injustice. She knew it as soon as she saw it even though she could not articulate into words why.

"Miss Danvers is under the protection of Xandar and has agreed to participate in the Hanastari investigation and trial of their Droton under charges of tyranny. They are both, as man and wife, to be housed as political prisoners. Xandar will be involved to represent the interests of the Galactic Concord."

"You wish to play house, Miss Danvers?" Ghan Fal mocked her.

Carol jerked as if to strike but the Speaker held her firmly. "You have recognized their union by summoning Miss Danvers. I suggest you follow correct procedure or risk having the validity of this trial questioned."

"Fine, have a palace wing prepared," Ghan Fal sighed. He snapped his fingers. He fixed Carol with a withering look. "You will be watched. This isn't a honeymoon."

Yon-Rogg was dragged to his feet, his eyes narrowed as he kept his gaze on Carol. He seemed confused. She could not blame him. Nothing was as it should be.

* * *

The room they were given was in a state of complete disarray. Whoever had once lived there had abandoned it long ago, spread around the room was broken furniture and the wall panels had been gutted. There was a single bed, the covers thick with dust and the hangings eaten away by insects.

Carol picked through it as the Speaker hovered by the door. They were alone but how alone was yet to be seen. She did not trust the Hanastari. She could tell the Speaker was unsure of this course of action. She was unsure too but she could not shake that something was deeply wrong.

"You have decided then? To follow my advice?" Their fingers tapped nervously on the damaged door frame.

"He didn't know I was coming," Carol said turning over a table and finding unbroken chairs. She might as well make it livable. "We will discuss it."

"I didn't think he had your trust," the Speaker hesitated, "given your past."

"Something is wrong here," Carol shrugged. A Hanastari servant came in bearing a tray. It was laden with bowls and utensils. Carol paused as she looked at it. He would be here soon. She looked at the Speaker, they were drifting from foot to foot. "You can leave me alone. I am not scared of him."

"As you wish, Miss Danvers," they bowed their head and left the room quickly, following the servant.

It was not long before she heard the slithering and clinking of chains coming towards her on the tile. Carol turned from the door. She moved from the table and walked to the window. She couldn't stand seeing him brought in. She noticed the shield was broken, a board crossed it. Carol moved her hands over the broken glass sitting on the sill. Something had happened here. Some things were smashed while others were dissected carefully. Databanks and powercells removed with care but the windows and mirrors were destoryed at random.

She heard the door and she tensed. There was a skittering sound as something was thrown into the room. Carol turned to see keys lying in the middle of the floor. The guards shoved Yon into the room, he looked at them in disgust.

"Unlock him once we're gone," the guard said to her through the buzz of her translator. "Then he is your problem."

She walked to the centre of the room and picked up the keys as she heard them bolt the door. She held them to her chest as she looked at him. She tried to find some semblance of her Commander beneath the rugged and tattered exterior.

"You might as well sit," she said hesitantly pointing at the table. He looked at her. He didn't say anything but followed her gesture to the table. He sat, his wrists heavy between his thighs. Carol swallowed as she approached him as if he was a wild animal. She put the keys on the tray and began removing items one by one. She glanced at him. It had been three years since they had been this close to one another.

"You are lucky Kree hair grows slowly," she said glancing at him. "Or you would look like Grizzly Adams."

Without thinking she reached to touch the short full beard on his chin. He flinched his hands moving quickly to grab her. She tensed under his iron grip, stretching her fingers awkwardly.

"Right, that's an Earth thing-" she started but he interupted her.

" _Speak properly_ ," he growled releasing her hand. She clenched and unclenched where he had grabbed her.

"What do you mean?" She asked thickly. She was speaking English but his translator should include it by now. She furrowed her brow at him as he looked up at her intensely.

" _Speak properly_ ," he repeated. His voice was hoarse but his ennuciation was clear. She realized he hadn't understood her. Or anything. She stepped closer to him. She reached for him again. He looked at her defiant and angry. Her fingers shook a little as she held his cheek. His beard was warm and rough against her palm. She bit her cheek so she wouldn't shudder. He always felt good. His skin felt right touching hers and she resented it. She hated that no embrace, no contact ever felt real the way his did. He closed his eyes and tilted his head into her palm. Her other hand traced over his ear. She didn't feel the disc or the implant. She leaned closer to him, his manacled hands brushed her knees. He let her move his head but his eyes never lost their defiant gleam.

Behind his ear was a white scar, circular with sharp lines jutting from it. The skin was puckered. She felt sick picturing the wires ripped from the skin. She wondered how they had done it without damaging his hearing. She thought of the way he kept leaning his head. Perhaps they had. She breathed out slowly, her breath shook as it left her lungs. She was still wrapped awkwardly around him. She stepped away, her hand coming to her own translator. She turned it off, for a moment the world whined and hummed as her brain and nervous system adjusted.

" _Can you hear me_?" She tried to keep her gaze steady as she spoke to him in awkward grasping Kree. She would not let him see pity in her eyes.

He lifted his chin. She wanted to touch him again. She turned to the tray to keep her hands busy.

" _Why are you here_?"

" _Not my choice_ ," her tongue moved awkwardly over the sounds. His voice felt so right the way his words caressed her. She heard the world through an implant but this was him.

He nodded. She wondered if that stung or if he preferred it that way. She lay a bowl of water and a razor in front of her. He looked at the enamel handled tools for a moment before looking at her. He lifted his manacles and she realized he was still chained. She hesitated. She had her powers. She could take him if she had to.

" _How long_?" She asked as she reached for his hands. She unlocked them one by one, she could see the marks on his wrists from wearing them.

" _Three years_ ," he answered as she crouched in front of him to release his ankles. She nodded. Her Kree was inadequate, unused and helped along by an implant, the tongue had atrophied. As the last manacle fell open he moved swiftly. He kneed her in the chest sending her flying backward. She slid on the dust covered floor, coughing as the clouds kicked up sucked into her lungs as the impact made her draw breath.

"Asshole," she choked, rubbing her sternum. He was on her immediately, his teeth beared. He pinned her legs beneath his thighs and snatched for her wrists. Carol groaned and used the way he leaned forward against him, bucking him with her hips and the rocking of her torso so he was knocked sideways. He grunted as he was rolled off her. She got to her feet, retreating beyond his reach.

" _Why are you here_?" He repeated getting to his feet. He came for her. She blocked blows as quickly as she could. Like her Kree she was rusty. She had her powers until now. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of using them to beat him even as he forced her backward. Their hands moved in a smooth change of blows. She followed his lead, her limbs coming up automatically to meet his.

Too late she realized he was mesmerizing her, lulling into a pattern of blocking him. Until like a viper his hand struck through the arch of their arms and grabbed her throat. She felt the edge of the bed dig into her calves as he tilted her. Her back hit the mattress as dust was exhaled from the sheets. It made her eyes sting. The flat of his hand dug into her windpipe as he pinned her legs and pressed her down.

" _Did Xandar send you? Are they meddling with the Supremor's business_?" He snarled leaning close to her. She tilted her chin in an attempt to open her throat around the weight of him.

"No" she wheezed. His hand tightened.

" _Then why are you here_?" He repeated with an animal gleam in his eyes. Her vision was darkening at the edges. She gave in and lit her fist. She held it between them as a warning. His eyes turned to it and they reflected the yellow fire and fear. He let her go backing up with his hands raised. Carol sat up on her elbow her hand soothing her throat. The truce was off.

" _Because I am your wife_ ," she coughed around the dust and the pain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!  
> Sorry this is all a little behind but The Holidays were more busy than anticipated.
> 
> 💜❤💚💙DH

Carol sat on the table, holding a round silver plate below her chin. It was the only thing the Hanastari had given them that was remotely reflective. She let Yon-Rogg continually tilt and turn it so his distorted reflection would snap back into place as he tilted his chin. He was coated in shaving foam whipped in a small pot and brushed thickly on his face. The razor was dull. He had small speckles of blue bubbling up where he had already passed the blade. Carol could see them clearly as he stood nearly between her knees. She could feel every once in awhile the pressure of his thigh against her as he leant closer to the plate.

"I can't believe you didn't believe it was me," she said with an arch of her eyebrow.

He wiped the blade on a towel and swirled it in water. It made a clinking noise so different than chains. He bit his lip and thrust his jaw forward to keep the skin on his chin taut. On one side of his face he was already starting to look more like himself. She didn't know how she felt about that.

"Your Kree is atrocious, your fighting style is sloppy," he listed as he tilted the plate again. She immediately twitched it so he couldn't see again. He rolled his eyes correcting it. "And you're here. Why would you come back? You ended this."

They spoke basic now that he was done testing her. It was slightly better than her Kree. Even if she had to pause to gather her thoughts.

"Don't think this is me forgiving you" she said narrowing her eyes at him. "I am still mad as hell. I am only here to prevent a galactic incident."

"I hardly think a revolutionary tribunal on a small abandoned colony would spark an incident," he answered her, tilting his head to catch his other cheek.

"It's about the -," she cocked her head, she didn't know the word in basic. She switched to English, "precedence."

She put the makeshift mirror down as he put aside the razor. She grabbed the towel from his shoulder and started dabbing away the errant foam. He leaned into her so she could reach him better. Her arms were just tired she told herself. It was easier to do this herself.

"Precedence?" He repeated.

"Yes, there is a misconception about us that the Hanastari are exploiting," she dipped the towel in water to better work away a smear of blood staining his chin.

"And what's that?" He asked stepping away from her to inspect himself in the silver plate.

"That the blood between us means something. They think Hala made an alliance with Earth."

"Why would Hala make an alliance with a planet in the technological stone age?"

"That isn't the point," she argued. He was picking at the wrong piece of the puzzle. She gestured between them. "The point is they think we are married. That the blood transfusion was more than just a medical procedure."

He paused, only his eyes moved to look at her his hand still touched his chin. "What have you been told?"

"It's not important," she sighed as she hopped down from the table. She needed to get away from him she realized. He had done it again, lured her closer until it had all felt natural.

"It's important to me," he growled throwing the plate with a clatter onto the table. He had somehow become even more focused during the last three years, there was something lethal and still about him. Something refined by imprisonment. "It's a conversation I had intended to have with you. When you were ready."

"You mean when I stopped questioning all the cracks in your story?" She hurled the words at him, her fingers rubbing the aching place his palm had pressed.

"I never told you anything that wasn't true," he hesitated "when all the factors are considered."

She laughed at him then.

"That the Skrulls destroyed my home, that I was Kree, that my powers came from the SI-" she began listing them off.

"I knew nothing of you," he interrupted. "But whatever devestation reached you was because the Skrulls were encamped on C 53. It was a truth in the context of a war that has continued for generations. The purpose was for you to understand what was at stake not to provide an explanation of events that you were not ready to understand."

"Because your understanding was flawed," she took a step closer to him. This was what had been gnawing at her for three years.

"You have no proof," he said, his spine straightening. "I had thought I had made your mind more resilient than this. I see now the shortcomings in my training. I shielded you too frequently from the Supremor-"

Carol punched him. Perhaps the blow landed because she had been as surprised as Yon by her reaction. She understood now the disappointment that always plagued her. It was that she knew Yon to be a better man that his education. That she could have made him understand if he had listened to her. And yet he had only thought her deluded and manipulated. He had dismissed her for reprogramming. He had thrown her away easily. With that understanding came immediate action.

"Thank you," she said softly through grit teeth.

"For what?" He asked flexing his jaw.

"For reminding me why I came here," she said pushing passed him. She was deluded she thought they could get anywhere through discussion. She turned her translator back on as she went to the door.

It was locked but she melted the mechanism easily. The guard looked shocked to see her on the otherside of the door.

"How did you get out?" They demanded hands moving to their weapon.

"Bring me to the Xandarian representative. I wish to discuss my case."

* * *

"Carol," they said softly as she was led into their room. They were reading a book beneath the small spotlight of a lamp, glasses perched on their nose. She didn't recognize the script. Shadows, blue and green, flickered over their lenses. Translation software implanted in the glass. The room was sparse but cleaner than her own. The Hanastari obviously understood the weight of having the Nova Empire present.

Perhaps it was the softness of their voice or the understanding look they gave her but Carol suddenly felt like crying.

"Something has happened?" They asked guiding her to her seat. She shook her head. Nothing had happened and that was the problem. He had been here three years, kept in deplorable conditions and yet he still stood by his Empire. He was still the perfect Kree soldier.

"Do you know anything about Kree Blood Weddings?" She asked wrapping her arms around herself as she sat. "I will need to know if it comes up. And I was unconscious for mine."

She said the words bitterly. She felt dirty, picturing herself helpless as Yon filled her. Made her his before he even knew her. And then told her nothing beyond explaining why she was in the med centre.

The Speaker of Laws cleared their throat. They took the seat opposite her. They moved hesitantly as if she were a cobra in a box.

"Ah, I have very basic knowledge," they said removing their reading glasses and cleaning them on their shirt. "None of it particularly romantic."

"I don't find the situtation romantic," she muttered leaning her head back. The Speaker smiled. They had a soft voice, kind and willowy but it made others stop talking so they could be heard. Peace was its own power.

"My position is an unusual one," they began. "To be a Speaker of the Law one must not only know the content and breadth of a law but its intention and history. I do not just provide facts, I provide context. And that is the value of a Speaker."

"I don't like that word today," Carol sighed. She crinkled her nose, "context."

"Unfortunately laws and facts are useless without it," the Speaker smiled patiently. "It is what gives us the beauty of justice. It allows us to carry forward with the best intention of those that came before us."

"And lets them to continue to abuse us from beyond," Carol added. She felt cynical and jaded. The Speaker smiled enigmatically.

"It can. But that is when our desire to be better lifts us up. Laws change because our understandings change. They are not stagnant and each law is a plant that grew from a seed of what came before."

Carol closed her eyes and allowed their voice to soothe her. It all sounded so natural. As if justice was the natural state of the universe.

"None of that answers your question," they sat back and tented their hands against their chest. Summoning information from deep inside. "I know the ceremonies are not required to be public although the issuing of any formal documentation would require a DNA test."

Carol opened her eyes. She did not want her mind to wander into the realm of imagination. Painting scenes she couldn't be sure happened.

"Is it normal that only one side accepts blood?"

Could there be a loophole? Could she not truly be his mate.

"There is no agreed upon ratio or duration. It is a union that adapts to those participating and their needs."

"I am surprised the SI allows for such fluidity."

"It predates the Assumption of the Supremor. It is the most ancient of Kree rituals aside from possibly Khun Zan Uil."

Carol felt something deep inside her shudder. It was akin to the feeling of falling without knowing where you would land. The idea of being without the SI, of exisiting without it, gave her this feeling on Hala. It was a fear she thought she had left behind, but it reared its head suddenly. A sleeping serpent awoken by something even more ancient.

"What does it mean when someone takes on all of another's blood?" She asked breathless. She didn't realize how imporant the answer was. The Speaker licked their lips and a far off look came into their eyes for the briefest second. As if they were plumbing their memories.

"This is where the discussion meanders to precedence over rule," they answered leaning forward. They extended their hands to her.

Carol was beginning to grow familiar with this gesture. Repeated and engrained, always the prelude to difficult words. By taking them she was accepting whatever it was they were going to tell her. They were always warm she thought, unlike the medics on Hala whose hands were cold with constant sterilizing.

"One of the few dissolutions of a Kree Blood Marriage was between such a union. The husband had taken the blood from his wife until there was none left of himself. It was their agreement that he was to be her warrior. That he would expand her glory. When he failed it was seen as reneging on the agreement. I believe he was given a very short time to find someone else to bond to him and replenish what she reclaimed."

Carol felt cold picturing Yon suspending her upside down and callously draining her for leaving him. The Speaker squeezed her hand.

"It is not always so gruesome," they assured her. "It is about intention afterall."

Carol tried to smile but it was impossible to take comfort in their words as she had no way of knowing Yon's intention. Then or now.

"Have dinner here," they said releasing her hands and reach towards the call button. "If we are together there will be no rush to return to your room. The case could require a whole evening of discussion."

Carol was grateful if it meant she did not have to return to her room until after Yon was asleep.

* * *

She stayed the whole night, sleeping in a chair. The intimacy was less shocking, less dangerous than returning to Yon. She would not see him until the trial.

He was brought in ahead of her. Chained again. Her hands were free and they separated at the end of the aisle. No one stood beside him except the guards. The Hanastari high court looked down at him but no Kree officials stood beside him.

Carol was forced to wonder what would have happened if she had not returned.

The Arbiter was on a raised bench. They looked down at Yon as if all was already decided. It was she realized. This was all a mockery and it made her sick.

"Droton Yon Rogg, you have been charged with cruelty to the people of Hanastar-9, corruption of market and destruction of ceremonial grounds. How do you plead?"

Carol turned his head to look at him. His head was bowed. She could see clearly the white web of scars behind his ear. Did he even understand? She was sick. He had done none of these things. He had been on Hala during the stripping and colonizing of Hanastar-9. This was not justice she realized. Yon was not being judged. It was not his acts that were on trial.

A guard shoved his shoulder. He looked up at the Arbiter.

" _Guilty_ " he growled in Kree. Carol wanted to go to him. To stop this sham of a trial.

"The punishment for such crimes is death. We will decree it now if your mate, Carol Danvers, accept this as her fate?" The Arbiter turned their head to look at Carol.

His head snapped up at her name, he looked at her with a furrowed brow. He suddenly seemed desperate to understand.

She and the Speaker had agreed during the night that this would be the moment she renounced him. That the Speaker would lay out her case and separate them permanently. They opened their mouth to answer.

"I plead not guilty," Carol announced before they could speak. "I demand a trial against these charges."

"Very well," the Arbiter answered. If they were shocked they did not show it. They slammed their hand on the bench. "Return them to their quarters and we will reconvene tomorrow at first light."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a long time since I was the conductor of the blood train
> 
> Anyone who doesn't know me from Chalice or Break, I am sorry in advance.  
> Mind the Rating change
> 
> 💙💜💚❤DH

Yon was taken back to their quarters in chains. He had a wild look in his eye, he kept turning his head trying to keep Carol in his sight. Even as they dragged him away he twisted against them so he could see her, be sure she was following. The Speaker was by her side, their head lowered. Carol knew she was confusing them but it was all so wrong. Yon had deceived her, he had led missions she no longer believed in but he was not cruel to civilians. He was not the man they accused him of being.

She kept glancing at them, knowing she could not speak yet. Knowing she was asking too much of Xandar to defend a member of the Kree Empire. Knowing the two Empires had a long history forged in blood and fire but she could make no other choice.

" _What in the name of the old gods is going on?_ " Yon snarled as soon as they reached their quarters. His hands still manacled were held out in front of him. Carol took the keys from the guard before they left. She tucked them in her jacket pocket.

_"I told you already,_ " she chastised him with an exasperated eye roll, turning off her translator. She turned to the Speaker. "They ripped out his translator. Can you explain in Basic?"

The Xandarian nodded hesitantly and reached behind their ear. It was easier without the echo.

"Droton Rogg-" they began but Yon made a grunting snarl and moved to sit at the table. They closed their eyes for a moment as if gathering patience. "Commander Yon-Rogg, Hanastar-9 has invoked an ancient law for this tribunal that in its essence ensures that whatever punishment is given to you, Miss Danvers will also receive."

"They can't-" Yon-Rogg clenched his fists and looked to the door. As if he meant to fight his way to Ghan Fal.

"They can," Carol held up her hand and he fell back against the chair, his jaw clenching. Yon looked to the Speaker again.

"And why has Xandar become involved?"

"Miss Danvers required assistance. As her ally, we felt it prudent to represent her."

"And what is your plan?" Yon growled. The Speaker hesitated, looking to Carol. She nodded.

"As a marriage of this nature, yours rarely has political value we agreed that when the trial commenced Miss Danvers would deny there was an alliance between her origin planet and Hala."

"Of course there is not," Yon snapped. His thumb worked the manacle of his opposite wrist.

"I am glad we agree," the Speaker smiled. "The continuation of that logic is that yours was a love marriage-"

Yon's gaze snapped to her and Carol found she could not look at him.

"What evidence can you provide?"

Carol felt the heat creep up her neck and she implored the Speaker to finish their thought.

"Such a marriage could be easily dissolved. Miss Danvers need only accept blood from another-"

"No," Yon stood and paced back and forth. His spine was rigid and he rotated his wrists as if testing the strength of the chain.

"Yon," Carol found her voice. "You either allow me to dissolve our marriage or you allow Xandar to defend you."

"What marriage?" He turned on her and took a heavy step towards her. The Speaker flinched as if they meant to step between them but Carol merely tilted her chin defiantly. "You call it a 'Medical Procedure' in private but you would stand before their _tribunal_ and claim to love me. To what? Leave me? Dishonour my blood?"

"Then make it a real trial," Carol spat back. "Defend yourself against these false charges."

"This is my punishment," he growled. "The Supremor commands me to die for the Kree."

"Then I die too," Carol gestured in frustration.

He stalked closer to her. His hands moved as if he meant to grasp her shoulders but he stopped himself. "I won't let that happen."

"But you will take none of the steps to stop it," Carol argued back. The Speaker hovered from foot to foot. Nervous energy poured off them.

"I will not disobey the Supremor."

"Then allow me to dissolve our union."

"Do you think another's blood would purge me from your veins?" He stepped even closer to her. Carol held his gaze daring him to do something but she did not know what.

"The precedence is only that-" the Speaker began.

"Leave us," Yon commanded his voice so forceful it made something in Carol's gut quiver. The Speaker squared their shoulders but Carol forced her eyes away from Yon's long enough to nod her head.

"I will be fine."

The Speaker swallowed dryly and reached into their pocket. "I shall leave what you asked for on the table."

"Thank you," she said quietly, her eyes turning to Yon again. She raised her eyebrow as if to ask if he was satisfied now?

They heard the door close and lock again.

" _Answer the question, Vers_ ," he narrowed his eyes at her. He wound his chain around his wrist. " _Would an ocean of blood be enough?"_

" _My name is Carol_ ," she ground the words between her teeth. She leaned closer to him, answering his challenge.

_"My mate's name is Vers and you will answer to it,"_ he moved so quick she did not see the trap until it had already closed around her. He looped the chain over her, so it crossed her back like a strap. His one hand pulled tight by her hip and the other at her shoulder so she was pressed against his chest. Her hands were caught and his foot stepped neatly between hers so she had nowhere to kick. She pushed back so she could look up at him. His eyes were trained on her mouth and he seemed to be breathing her in.

_"What are you doing?"_ She grunted as she tried to break the hold on her. She only felt his muscles tense and the thick links of the chain dig deeper into her back.

" _I thought you loved me? Isn't that what you are going to tell them?"_ He stepped even closer into her so she was forced to shuffle her feet back. He rocked her slowly backward like this. His eyes had gone dark. There was a look in them she had only seen when there was danger. When he was desperate for her to obey him just once. His voice had the hard edge of command.

" _This isn't funny."_

_"I am not trying to amuse you,"_ there was something so intimate about his voice when he spoke Kree. The syllables crawled under her flesh and she heard them anew like when she woke on Hala. When he had been gentle and cautious. He was none of those things now but she felt the same man inside him. The one that would never harm her. The one that had saved her. He was both and neither. Each version of him cancelled the other out and she felt suspended in the moment. There was no before, there was no after.

_"What do you want?"_ She knotted her hands in his shirt so he could not knock her over with the pressing of his body. The chain a hard reminder at her back of where they were. " _You don't want me to share your fate and you won't deny our union. What would make you happy?"_

To even speak of happiness now was absurd.

_"Leave. Use your powers and escape. That was what you did on C 53. You abandoned me then, abandon me now."_

_"You'll die."_

_"I don't care,"_ he growled jerking the chain a little harder.

_"I do."_

It was because there was no space left between them she told herself. It was because this would all be over soon. That was why she pulled him close and kissed him. Because she was mad and because at that moment she hated him as much as she loved him. She hated he would give up everything for an Empire that would waste him so easily. She locked her hands behind his neck and held him to her mouth. She felt the chain slacken for the barest of seconds before his hands slid over her back, fingers gripping her jacket in handfuls. She let go of him so she could shrug it off. He grunted against her lips in protest but as he felt the leather sliding he eased his grip so she could strip away the layer. 

The second it hit the floor he was dragging her against him again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him urge higher up his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and she felt the heavy swing of chains down the column of her spine. His mouth left hers and his nose trailed the crook of her neck, breathing her in like a man who had been trapped in an airlock like she was oxygen. He groaned and sunk his teeth into her shoulder through the cotton of her shirt as he walked them the remaining paces to the bed. She moaned sinking for a moment against the pressure of his teeth before she pulled his hair forcing him to look up at her.

_"Don't tell me the biting is a Kree thing,"_ she quirked her mouth at him, he licked his lips as his head tilted back and his throat bobbed.

_"I just want to eat you,"_ he grinned at her his eyes making a trail from her lips to her throat.

" _Don't leave marks,_ " she told him, releasing his hair as they reached the bed. He dropped her and she groaned as she landed on the chain.

_"At least not where they can see_ ," he promised with a wicked grin. He knelt between her knees and she tugged off her shirt. The chain circled her waist as his hand went to work on her fly. She curved her spine against the links as he leaned forward and traced with his nose an invisible line to her navel. His hands curled into her waistband and he was tugging them down as she tried to kick off her boots without hurting him.

He tugged down her pants as she lifted her hips so the chain could slide beneath her. She heard the thud of her boots mixing with the sound of the chain dragging against the tile.

"Am I going to be the only naked one?" She protested as he kissed his way from her knee up her thigh. Hot opened mouth kisses that made her toes curl against the tile.

_"Vers, speak properly,"_ he murmured against her flesh. She tightened her knees around him. Her hands threaded through her hair and she pressed the heels of her hand into eyes as she felt the heat of her breath against her. She was trying not to panic or sob or laugh that this was happening now.

"I am running out of Kree," she huffed as his fingers traced her first. Her breath was caught somewhere between her lungs and the sheets. "And my name is Carol."

" _Find more,"_ his voice rumbled as he wrapped a hand around her hips and lifted her so the cold links of the chain were beneath her once again. _"And your name is Vers of House Rogg. I will make you admit it."_

"No one is that good, Yon,"she laughed as she felt him tighten the chain beneath her, using it to drag her closer to him. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow her nerves. Focus on the gathering heat low in her belly and the flutter of anticipation she felt.

He moved his mouth the same way he spoke. With intention, with commanding coaxing syllables. When she flexed instinctively away, seeking reprieve from the sensations he stoked in her, he dragged her back with the firm jerk of the chain. His torso nestled between her thighs stopped the clenching of her knees as his body rocked in her, held her open to him. She clenched her teeth and drew hard breaths threw her nose. Her hands reached above her head and gripped into the linens. Her muscles shook with tensing as her elbows jutted at right angles, hiding her face. Her hips pressed into the mattress and her ribs arched higher. He cradled her hips and brought her closer even as his body weighed her down. She tried to give shape to the rising wave, to find its white-hot peak and let it uncoil low in her stomach. The pressure of his mouth, the movement of his tongue, the changing tide of his breath felt clearer to her than any other touch. It was as if every cell in her body welcomed him and she hated herself for it.

" _Please"_ she mumbled, as her lips formed the word she thought of the pleading glyph. The curve and shape of it begging the reader. A supplicant word his tongue was pulling from hers. She thought of glyphs interlocking as they fell across the screen. The way their meaning nestled inside each other. Context, context, context. The seed that grew from intention. What did Yon want from her, that he pulled begging sounds from deep in her core? That he wanted to wake up a dormant language? She chanted to stop her spiralling worries, " _please please please._ "

She wanted completion to wash away the coiling, nesting doubts.

" _Who asks me?"_ He lifted his mouth away from her to speak against the flush skin over her hip bones. He eased and softened his grip. She felt the tide ebbing and she groaned in frustration.

" _Never Yon,"_ she answered him knowing what it was he wanted.

" _A shame,_ " he whispered against her navel. He spread his hands gently over her stomach. Fingers reaching far enough he could count her ribs.

"Bastard," she nearly sobbed. There was something incomplete in her, that left a swallowing sadness. It tasted in the back of her throat like failure. That she had failed to please him. That she so wanted him to care for her. He slipped away from her and the chain slid down the backs of her legs so she even grieved the loss of the hard links biting into her. She heard the clatter of them pooling on the floor. She started to push herself up, pulling her body higher across the bed. Even as her body wailed at the distance her pride demanded it. As her knee bent, he caught behind it. The cold metal dragged across her stomach as she hung her head back in relief at his return. He climbed up her and her hands reached for him. His clothes were rough against her heated skin but she arched into the discomfort. Any sensation, she would take it. It was better than being bereft in a sea of sheets. He pressed his hips into her and she ground into him. He grunted as he leaned over her. She curled her body up to meet him and he slipped his restraints over her head. He urged her down again. He kissed softly the arch of her eyebrow before tracing it with the tip of one finger.

" _I have been without you too long, wife of my blood,"_ he whispered to her, his voice gravelly as if the words were pulled from deep inside him. She felt the weight of him against her and the rough edge of his words. They were not alone here. Even if they were left in peace she was certain there would be no hiding what passed between them.

" _Don't,"_ she said in his ear. Her hands finding the fall of his pants. She pushed aside the open fabric and moved her hand along the length of him.

" _Don't what?_ " He asked with shaking breath. She didn't have an answer she could give. She meant so many things; don't speak softly to her, don't make her long for things that could never be, don't throw her away all over again.

" _Don't be gentle_."

" _But I can have all of you?"_ He growled as he tensed his muscles. He was a tightly coiled spring. She nodded, leaning up to kiss him as she held him against her. She steadied him as he moved forward. She exhaled as she felt their bodies come together at last. Every brush of skin, every movement of muscle felt like the forming of a star. Chemical, physical, gravitational forces colliding to create something white-hot, burning, and new. She let her head fall back as she revelled in it, her knees bending and hips tilting to take all of him.

" _Vers_ " he moaned into the mattress beside her ear.

"That's not my name."

" _It is,"_ he withdrew a little so he could thrust into her. Hard. Unforgiving. " _I want you to say it._ "

" _Then you waste your effort,"_ she hissed through her clenching teeth as she tensed against the battering of his body. She had not realized how alone she had felt until she had the force of him to resist. Until their bodies moved together in a heavy punishing rhythm that built something brutal inside her she longed to unleash. She was shoved higher and higher across the bed as the mattress groaned beneath them. She gripped her legs around the slipping layer of his clothes and tried to stop herself. He lifted as her head found the edge, snapping the chain back so her shoulders were cradled and swayed as she hung partly over the edge. It felt like flying as he fucked her hard. She closed her eyes and chased the winding tightening feeling. As she drew close to relief his movements grew shallow and she felt the building wave retreat. She moaned in frustration, her head hanging back and her hands knotting into the bunching linens.

_"Not until you say it,_ " he teased her. She could feel his triumphant grin in the tightening of the chain and the slow gentle slip of his body. Of course, even in this Yon would have full control. " _You can have everything you want when you say your name for me."_

She gave in to the clawing need of her body. She groaned as she panted but she lifted her head to look at him. She growled, " _Vers-"_

His hand slipped down her body, pulling his other arm behind her shoulders so the chain crossed the valley between her breasts. His thumb found her and her eyes closed again. He pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck as he moved with greater intention, sensitive to the tightening and fluttering of her inner muscles. 

She breathed in his ear as she fell over the edge, _"of House Rogg."_

He made an animal-like snarl as he rutted through her orgasm. Pinning her in a place that was both the storm and the calm after it. Peace and violent sensation.

She struck at his throat as hard as she could. Rolling him and forcing him back even as the chain and his arms tangled around her. When she was on top, his arms draped over her, she dug her thumb into his chin. Forcing him to hold her gaze as she leaned close to his face.

"Was never my name," she growled. She felt the rumble of his frustration through the humidity for where their bodies pressed together.

He sat up into her and she spread her knees wider so he could not knock her off balance. She tugged his shirt over his head as he brought his bound wrists between them.

She retreated and dragged him by his tethered covered hands so the headboard was behind him, supporting the curve of his body.

" _Release me so we can settle this as equals,_ " he snarled. His eyes were still hot with unquenched desire. 

"We have never been equals, why start now?" She smirked at him and wrapped the long tail of the chain around the bedpost. She leaned up over him and his mouth found her flushed skin. He licked the sweat from her in sucking kisses that made her want to curl around him. With a spark of her power, she fused the chain. He grunted as he pulled against his bonds. His arms stuck above his head and his hands trapped inside his shirt.

She moved down his body with slow intention. Pausing to bite the swell of muscle at his shoulder as she felt him try to twist and catch her with his mouth. She slid lower, the coarse hair on his chest scratching against her in a way that made her want to press against him like a cat. She tugged his pants down exposing him properly leaving them bunched unceremoniously at the end of the bed. His bare feet twisted into the linens.

"I should make you speak English," she said as she crawled back up his body. He bent his knees to catch her waist. He gripped her hard. Slowing her path. She planted her hands on either side of his hips and braced as she lowered her body forward.

" _What?_ "

"English, Yon," she repeated. She tried to sound pedantic, the way he did when he lectured her. She licked him, following the groove with her tongue as he groaned and his head thudded against the headboard. "My language. Can you say 'Please'?"

" _I don't know what that means,"_ his words broke around shaking breaths as he looked down his body to watch her. The iron grip of his thighs eased and she was able to curl her self between his legs.

"Like this," she answered tracing the pleading glyph on the tense slope of his stomach.

" _Please?_ " He hesitated.

"No, 'please'," she corrected. She moved her hand over him from base to tip. She encouraged, "say it."

"Please?" The word had too much air in it as he exhaled. She had taken him to the back of her throat, tasting their coupling on his skin, swallowing around the intrusion.

"Good," she smiled as she released him, spreading her fingers possessively over the tautness of his belly. "Now try 'more'."

"More?" He growled watching her as she held him against her lips.

"More what?" She teased, finding a sensitive place with the flat of her tongue. Yon closed his eyes and shifted beneath her.

"More, please," he tried with his brow furrowed and his hips tilting into her.

"Good," she praised him as she bobbed her head forward. She heard the rattle of the chain and the hissing of his breath as she mimicked the motion of her hand with the heat of her mouth. Base to tip over and over again.

"More," he begged as she felt beneath her fingers and against her tongue the shushing rush of his body's humours. She released him with a pop, crawling up his body. He opened his eyes; glassy, gold, and reverent.

"Like this?" She asked in English. Knowing he could suss out her meaning. He nodded.

"Please," he breathed. She had an implant. She knew they had both been celibate as long as they had known one another. She hadn't understood why until this moment. Her body had known even when she had not that they belonged together. She sunk onto him slowly and he flinched with the pleasure of returning to her body.

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him as she ground their bodies together. His tongue guiding the motion of her hips as clearly as words. Urging speed or slowing her as he tasted her. She felt the wave growing between them again, their sweat and breaths mingling so when it broke and she felt the hot flood of him she did not know where her pleasure ended and his began.

She was shaking when it ended. When she felt him sag against his chains and she fell forward onto him. Resting her head against him and breathing in the smell of his sweat. It made something ache deep within her. It was like the smell of home after being away so long and it filled her with rage. She drew in deep sobbing breaths of it, filling her lungs as angry tears filled her eyes. She had pulled herself from the ocean and everywhere salt seemed to be drying against her.

"Release me," he said softly into the crook of her neck, his body shrugging forward as if he wanted to hold her in his arms. "It will be alright."

She sat back and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"No, it's not finished yet."

He smiled at her, "then what remains defies my imagination."

She laughed as she got up and crossed the room, naked and her limbs trembling. She returned to him with a shallow bowl she had filled from the pitcher. She had in her hand, wrapped in a rough cloth, what she had asked the Speaker to bring. She returned to straddling his lap and he looked at her with a cocked brow. She unwrapped the bottle of inky water. His eyes widened.

"Where did you get that?" He asked with a tight voice.

"It doesn't matter," she answered pouring it into the bowl. She would not tell him it was the bottle he gave her. The one that had resided inside her suit. That had been retrieved by the Xandarians.

She would give this last piece of Hala back to him. Where she could never bring herself to fling it into the void she could leave it here.

Yon's nostrils flared as the earthy scent rose up. It called to her gut too. Something in her she would never shake loose. She dipped the cloth in the water. She pulled it dripping down the length of one arm towards his heart. The droplets of water predicting her path over the rigid tensing muscle.

" _The path of a warrior is a path cleared by those before them. The way worn smooth by the blade and scythe of death preceding,"_ she said the words softly as she washed him. His eyes burned into her and the words were pulled from memories she had not been brave enough to look at since she left him. Of standing cold and exposed before him as he washed her. " _It is the air and earth fed by blood and smoke that is polluted. That clings and sullies well-meaning flesh. So from the ash and earth be cleansed."_

His skin prickled as the air cooled the water. She could not look at him as she finished the invocation. Could not look at the flesh that glistened with the ancient rites of his people. That was flushed from consummating the ancient bond between them. She did not want to breathe in the smell of the Kree herbs or the smell of him. Two homes. The same but separate in her memories.

"Release me and I will finish it," he implored her. She nodded and put her hands over the manacles. She broke them easily and he pulled his hands away. The red and bruised marks at his wrists filled her with guilt.

He took the bowl from her as he straightened. She held her hands in front of her palms up and pinkies touching. To her surprise, he placed the bowl in them again. She cupped her hands around the clay, wary of spilling. He reached above him and dragged a shattered end of the manacle across his palm. He brought the blue welling wound to the bowl and squeezed the cloth against his palm so the blood ran down into the water.

"You were not awake last time," he said with a slow sad smile. "I always wondered if in your sleep you heard the words. If you would have said yes willingly given time."

"That doesn't matter now," she answered watching him swirled the cloth around the bowl.

"It does to me," he looked at her. "Close your eyes."

"I thought I was supposed to be awake this time."

"It will sting if you don't," he admonished her. She held the bowl fast as she felt the sway of him coming to his knees. She closed her eyes. She felt the cold cloth beneath her left eye. Yon's finger beneath traced along the edge of her temple and made an arc across her forehead and dipped beneath her other eye to follow to the curve of her cheek. Water dripped down her face and she was lost in the sensation of it. He swept down her nose and over her lip. The tip of his finger catching slightly the fullness of her lower lip. Drips ran into her mouth and it tasted of bitter ocean. He finished with a curving 's' like a water droplet rolling over her chin. She knew this shape. The Kree glyph for 'mate'. A curving key where other words were jagged. The word now nestled in the context. It was the act of caressing your lover's face. Of memorizing each feature. As if it was that last time you would see it. The gamble a warrior took before each battle.

She was always understanding things too late.

" _Blood of my blood,_ " Yon said softly. " _The unknown that calls will not lift my mark from you. No other's blood, spilled or taken, will wash you clean of your promise to me."_

He moved the cloth over her shoulders dipping down her sternum toward her heart. He was not washing her as one warrior to another but as his wife. The words and movements different. Different but the same. The intention. The meaning. The seed.

It was all too much.

"Don't leave me, Yon," she begged her eyes still closed. Her brow furrowing against tears she refused to shed. He lifted the bowl from her hands. "Please fight this for me."

He reached for her. Pulling back the covers and settling her beneath. She let him. She let him tuck her in and slide in behind her. She let him hold her.

"Everything I do is for you," he said into her hair. She was so tired. Her heart, body and mind all at odds. She was heartbroken for all the time they had lost even as her body was sated and relaxed. Her mind rebelled that all was still not right. There was some invisible danger she could not see.

* * *

Yon held her, breathing in the smell of her and of the ancient herb. This had been what he longed for all their time on Hala and after. Not at first, but so soon after. As if he had entered the orbit of a new star.

He had lied to her for so long. Had thought to make them both strong with his deception. A mate was a weakness taken in knowingly by a warrior. A point of pressure to be used. He had not realized when he agreed to the ritual that she would become his weakness. Like a fool the thought himself immune.

The Supremor had played him well one last time. Had made him swallow the consequences of his disobedience and hubris again. Even before his death had taught him one last valuable lesson.

He waited until she was asleep before he slipped away. He pulled on his pants and went to the door. He knocked on it softly. The guard opened it a crack, eyeing his unbound wrists warily.

"Yes?" They asked.

"Bring me to the Xandarian."


End file.
